


Inciting Chaos

by A_simple_lee



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I need to be stopped, Reader Insert, Tickle fic, Tickling, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_simple_lee/pseuds/A_simple_lee
Summary: You’re bored. His lute is unattended on the ground. Can he blame you, really? (Reader is a lee in this one)
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion & Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	Inciting Chaos

Your feet hurt. Your shoulders ache. It’s been a long day of running to stay out of trouble with monsters, and trying to bail Jaskier out of a skirmish with…well, everyone. The journey back to collect Geralt’s reward is only three days, but the sight of the rolling fields ahead of you has grown boring already. The campfire flickers in front of you. You pick up a fallen twig from the tree behind you and toss it in, watching the flames consume it. The leaves wither, rings of heat encircling their edges, glowing red, and crackling. It’s pretty, but only for a moment. You’re used to travel by now, but the in-between journeys like this tend to leave you antsy. This evening is no exception. 

Ah well. You’ve found that when in doubt, it’s best to entertain yourself with pestering the bard…who is currently hunched over his notebook, dead to the world, humming to himself. Geralt is sorting out food for Roach a ways off.

“Jaskier,” You whisper. No response. His thumb bounces a pencil up and down in time with his leg. Not one to interrupt a train of thought, you decide to leave him be.

…And then notice his lute sitting neglected on the ground.

A bard and their instrument are normally inseparable - this is a golden opportunity for mischief, surely. If not, then certainly a means of occupying yourself for a moment, at least.

It’s easy enough to pick the lute up without him noticing. You hold it on your lap. Having seen him play almost every day, you manage to guess how you’d play a fairly simple melody.

“ _There…_ ” You start, count a single beat, and trot out a brief melody to get the feel of things. Jaskier whips around. “Oh?”

“ _…once was a bard,_ ” You grin, standing up so you can sway around as you play, making words up on the spot.

“ _Who found it hard,_

_To sing a decent song!_

_His name was Jaskier,_

_And he wished it were easier,_

_But alas,_

_All his lyrics…were wrong!_ ”

It is very difficult not to laugh at Jaskier’s insulted expression. You press on and break into a hesitant backwards jog when Jaskier gets up and takes a step towards you. 

“Ohoho,” He laughs, pocketing his notebook. “You have some nerve.”

Hopefully the disjointed chords you’re strumming out between verses manage to hide the snort of laughter you let out. He walks a little faster when you make to get away, and the pair of you begin a slow, halting, winding pursuit around the campsite; one of you concerned about a performance, and the other with protecting their instrument.

“You…are playing a dangerous game,” He warns.

“Want it back?” You brandish the lute and give it an extravagant strum. He scowls, and breaks into a run. You run too, crying out the final few lyrics over your shoulder and trying as best you can to play an accompaniment.

“ _And try as he might,_

_Composing all the night,_

_Jaskier’s singing-_

_Is like ordering a pie_

_and finding it has no filling!_ ” 

“Oi! Take that back right now!” He yells, footfalls growing faster and louder behind you. You cackle, removing the lute’s strap and brandishing it above you, still running.

“You want it? Come get it!” You crow, having decidedly too much fun. 

And then you trip. Destiny’s intervention, perhaps. It’s not enough to knock you over, but you stumble, and that’s all it takes for Jaskier to catch up with you. He grabs you, and a small fight breaks out between the two of you for the lute.

“You’re going to pay for this,” He growls, grappling with your arms for his instrument. “Insulting a high ranking bard such as myself? Unacceptable!” 

“What’s the matter?” You huff, twisting in an attempt to keep the lute out of his reach. “My musical talent make you jealous?”

“Well, you weren’t bad actually- but no! Absolutely not! How dare you!” He wraps an arm around your waist to pull you into his reach; you hold the lute away from you. 

“How dare ,i>you! I- composed a _masterpiece_! You- _ah!_ \- don’t know what good music sounds like, obviously!”

Jaskier’s hand keeps squeezing your side in an attempt to keep his hold on you, and it really tickles. If you’re lucky, he won’t notice your stuttered sentences and increased squirming - but then he does it again on your last sentence, his thumb inadvertently catching a sweet spot below your ribs. A giggle escapes.

“Take it back~,” Jaskier wraps his other arm around you.

“Or what?” You move one hand to pry at his wrists. He grips you tighter. You twitch and choke back a yelp.

“Or,” A pause. His fingers place themselves against your sides one by one, poised to attack. “I’ll tickle you.”

“You wouldn’t. I’ll drop the lute.”

“Really? Perfect! Two birds with one stone!” His hands give two quick squeezes to your sides. The lute has grown heavy in one hand, so it falls out of your grasp almost immediately. Jaskier moves swiftly, reaching one hand out for just a second to catch the lute and place it gently on the ground before returning his focus to keeping you trapped, pinching up and down your sides. He picks up the pace when you immediately dissolve into laughter and protests. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out which spots on your torso make you squeak or yelp or laugh harder, and there’s not much you can do to stop him with the way he’s trapped you in a hug. You try to twist out of his grasp, away from his wriggling fingers, but it’s no use - laughter comes tumbling from your lips and a wave of giddiness hits; you’re cackling, giggling, yelping - but your pleas fall on deaf ears, and Jaskier’s very set on tickling you into apologizing… which you’re not sure you want to do. Partly because you shouldn’t have to take back such an amazing song, but also because being able to laugh freely like this makes a nice change - not that you’d ever admit it. 

None of this stops you from pretending to hate your current predicament, though - Gods know things would be a lot worse if Jaskier realized how you enjoy this. Best to pretend you detest it. So in amongst your increasingly hysterical giggles, you throw in as many pleas for mercy as you see fit, peppering in a few insults and retorts every so often just to hear his insulted little gasps at your attitude. This doesn’t make things any better for you, admittedly - only spurs Jaskier on. The pair of you sink down onto the ground when your knees buckle; Jaskier’s quick to pin you, thumb drilling into your hip and grinning as you throw your head back in hysterics.

“No!” You gasp, speech promptly dissolving into unmitigated laughter as Jaskier darts between tickle spots before eventually settling on one that has you arching your back. 

“No? No what?” He laughs, leaning in and grinning at you. You hide your face in your arm to avoid looking him in the eye. 

“Not there!”

He speeds up, encouraged, and your laughter grows more desperate.

“Not where? Not heeere?”

A string of pleas and curses immediately fly out of your mouth, which earns a chuckle from Jaskier.

“Apologize, and I’ll stop. I could do this for… well, however long it takes, really.“

You shake your head, laughing too hard to do much besides push at him weakly in your hysterical state.

"Come on. I’m waiting~” 

Your sides are starting to hurt from laughing now, so it’s with some reluctance that you cave and decide to apologize between giggles.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

“For…?” He slows down his onslaught, but keeps his fingertips skittering over your sides. You grab onto his wrists, but don’t push him away enough to deter him.

“For tarnishing your precious ego! Let me go!”

“Hm. Not quite, but close enough. And…?” His hands pull away, poised to attack again if you say anything untoward. You keep your grip and take a deep breath.

“I…won’t do it again?” 

“Alright. That’ll do.” He grins, letting you go and twisting his hand to hold your wrist in return to help you up from the grass. Residual laughter still clings to your system, and a warm sort of contentedness lends a glow to your smile.

“That was uncalled for.” You lament, fixing your hair.

“Ohoho, no. No, it wasn’t. I could’ve been much meaner. Count yourself lucky, Giggles.” He reaches out and ruffles your hair. You shove him gently on the shoulder, tutting. The lute is retrieved from its place on the ground as you both make your way back to the campfire, exhausted, giggly, and a little less bored.

These inbetween journeys are often uneventful. But that can be a good thing, sometimes.


End file.
